The Mob Queen Wants to Claim Me for Herself (In a Reverse World)

Chapter 38: Green Monzter

It’s been days.

I’m sitting in Caterina’s office at the casino, the room spinning slightly at the edges of my vision. The walls are lined with monitors displaying security feeds from the casino floor, patrons moving like colorful fish in an aquarium. The massive mahogany desk between us gleams under the recessed lighting, its surface meticulously organized, not a paper out of place, not a speck of dust visible.

I look down and realize I’m dressed in a white suit to match Caterina’s. The fabric feels expensive against my skin, soft and weightless. My broken hands pointlessly hang to my side, the massive casts appearing stark and medical against the pristine white of my attire. They ache dully beneath the padding, a constant reminder of my punishment.

Caterina stands in front from me, her crimson eyes studying my face with that familiar mixture of possession and concern.

“Okay, baby,” she says, wiping her mouth delicately after giving me my pain pills, “today I only gave you what’s necessary. You should be lucid soon, okay?”

I sit there staring at her mouth like a trained dog, watching her lips form words with an intensity born of chemical dependence and fear. The pills are already working their way through my system, but something feels different. The fog isn’t as thick, the disconnection not as complete. I can feel my thoughts crystallizing, becoming sharper around the edges.

“Wait... no more?” I hear myself ask, the words slipping out before I can catch them.

She smiles, a predatory curve of perfect white teeth. “Oh, did you want more pills, baby?” Her voice is filled with false concern. “It’s just I want to take you out on a date today.”

“A date?” The concept seems foreign, a relic from another life. “Where?”

“I want you to pick,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her eyes never leaving my face.

The request catches me off guard. Choice is not something I’ve been allowed in... I can’t even remember how long. Days, weeks…Time has lost any semblance of meaning in the haze of medication and pain.

“I can choose?” My voice sounds small and uncertain, like a child being offered something too good to be true.

Caterina nods, her expression softening into something almost genuine. “Anywhere you want, baby. It’s your day.”

I stare at Caterina, my mind slowly clearing as the reduced medication allows me to think more coherently than I have in days. The office feels too bright suddenly.

I look up at her, confused. “It’s not my birthday.”

Caterina laughs, the sound musical and slightly unnerving. “No, it’s certainly not.”

She moves behind my chair, her hands coming to rest on my shoulders. I can feel her breath against my ear as she leans down, her lips almost touching my skin.

“If you could have one meal before you die,” she whispers like an oracle, “what would you want to eat?”

A chill runs through me despite the warmth of her breath. My heart stutters in my chest, the implication of her words hanging in the air between us.

“Is this my last meal?” I ask, my voice eerily calm, almost grateful for the possibility of an end.

“No!” she exclaims, panic flashing across her face as she spins my chair around to face her. “God, no! You’ve been so obedient.”

She kisses me suddenly, her lips soft against mine.

“You’ve been such a good boy,” she murmurs, kissing me again with increasing intensity. “You deserve something good.”

Her crimson eyes

“It’s a race in the city of Monza,” she explains, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. “Formula One. The most prestigious racing competition in the world. My cousin Valentina is one of the top drivers.”

I study her face. “You’re telling, not asking, right?”

Something flickers in her crimson eyes, surprise, perhaps, that I’ve become perceptive enough to recognize the difference. “Yes,” she admits without hesitation. “Typically, with the Monza race, I check in with a lot of the other families, and of course, you will come one way or another.”

I nod slowly, understanding the subtext. Other families means other crime bosses, other monsters like her. And I am to be displayed like a trophy, evidence of her dominance and control.

“Sounds good,” I say listlessly, slowly getting used to my lack of control in life.

Caterina pulls me in close.

“Hopefully, the casts will come off in time for the race.”